


From the Block

by mondsters



Category: Fleabag (TV)
Genre: F/M, G&Ts from M&S, Hurt/Comfort, Late Night Conversations, Lingering feels, Romance, drunk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-24
Updated: 2019-07-24
Packaged: 2020-07-12 16:03:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19948987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mondsters/pseuds/mondsters
Summary: He comes knocking on her door one late night. He's beyond drunk, but he has with him more alcohol and everything on his mind.He's back in her life, so how does this change things now that he's more honest than he's ever been before?





	From the Block

**Author's Note:**

> This is in the same timeline as my two others! Months after "This feeling" 
> 
> so please feel free to read those two as well :)
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

Knocking intruded her deep sleep. It was soft at first, hesitant, but grew louder and more annoying, coupled with the incessant ringing of the bell. She rose from her bed, mildly annoyed that she was removed with a rather raunchy dream that involved Patrick Dempsey. That silver fox could get into her knickers if Bridget Jones didn’t want him. 

She walks to the door, not caring that she was only wearing an old shirt and equally old pyjama bottoms. It wasn’t like she was expecting a man in her bed.

“Hi.” 

“F-father,” She’s surprised to see him. “What’re you doing here?”

“Your sister gave me our address, remember?”

“Right, she did.” She pauses and looks him over. He was in all sorts of disarray. He smelled like the floor of a pub and looked like the rag they used to clean it up. He had let his beard grow, his hair was all over the place, and his sweater looked like it hadn’t had a nice wash in a few days. 

“May I come in?”

He was beyond pissed drunk, but at least he never forgot his manners. She guides him in, helping him as he stumbles up the steps, past the door, and falls into the couch.

“I brought you some G&Ts,” He raises a plastic bag full of cans in the air. “Hope you don’t mind I’ve had a few.”

She shakes her head, more confused than anything else. She takes a seat parallel to him and continues to observe him. He sits up, scavenges around the plastic bag and produces two cans. He sets one down for himself, and leans forward and places the other in her hand. Their hands touch as he makes sure of her grip on the can. And it lingers there. Before he catches himself and sinks back into the couch. 

“Father, I don’t think it’s usual for priests to do house calls this time of night.” It was nearly two in the morning. Prime booty call time.

“Oh, fuck off,” He laughs softly, opening and taking a long sip of his drink, “Everyone comes to me for their problems, where do they expect me to go for mine?” 

She clears her throat, feeling awkward about the whole situation. But sighs in resignation, and opens her can. 

He notices this and raises his, “Cheers-”

“Cheers.” She returns.

“May peace be with you.”

“And also with you.” 

He smiles, the memory of her first mass with him comes to mind. “You know, I really did find peace for a while.”

“Oh yeah? What happened then?”

“This vixen in a sexy black jumpsuit and red lips made me fall in love with her.”

“That’s what happens when you priests are let out without wearing your dog collar.” She jokes, trying to keep his words from sticking to her. “You stray away from the doghouse.”

“Well, woof, woof.” He says. 

It had been some time since he had seen her-- well, properly looked at her-- but she looked as if nothing had changed. The years agreed with her, the lines on her face brought only from smiling. Her eyes looked softer, kinder.

“Did I ever tell you that I had a dog growing up?”

She shakes her head.

“Parent’s got him for me and my brother instead of actually loving us.” He takes a sip of his drink. “It almost worked perfectly, until my dad drunkenly ran him over one night. My mother told us he ran away because we didn’t care for him enough.” He shakes his head at the memory. 

“My brother-” He continues. “My brother left us the moment he turned 16. He and his mates got a flat together, got his license, so he left. Can’t really blame him, I would’ve done the same if I were in his shoes.”

“He left you alone with your parents?”

“I’d say yeah, but they were never really around much to be left alone with.” He cracks another can open. “But it’s something you get used to; being alone. After a while it becomes like an extra limb you hardly notice.”

She remains silent, surprised at his candor. He had never shared this much about himself before.

“I was around lower sixth when I saw my brother again. He was working as a school transport driver. I hadn’t seen him in 5 years.” He shudders as he exhales. “Rumors started going around that he was sleeping with some girls from my year. Everyone in school started distancing themselves from me.”

“Oh God, that’s awful.”

“I told my parents about the rumors, and they just got mad at me for letting my brother get away with it.” He pauses. “I started doing a lot of stupid shit when I finished school and left home. For the first time in my life, I felt free. Alcohol, gambling, women, drugs. You name it, I tried it at least once.”

His eyes are far off, his mind elsewhere.

“I just thought that I could escape that feeling. Y’know? Maybe I could find solace at the bottom of a whiskey bottle, or after a night in someone else’s bed.” He shakes his head. “But I fucked up. I mean, I was going to eventually. But by this time, my parents refused to bail me out and wanted nothing to do with me. Can’t really blame them. I was the child they had so they could save their marriage. I couldn’t even do that.”

He was on his fourth can of G&T while she had barely touched hers.

“I was saved by my aunt that day, she was a nun in the local convent. She took me in. She helped me get better. She helped me find the path I was supposed to be on. This one, I suppose.” He smiles at her, but there’s a twinge of sadness in it. He downs his drink. “That was the first time I felt peace. Like all the noise around me just stopped. I had been living my life with white static on the highest volume, but being in that convent muted it all. I didn’t want to let go of that.”

“So, you became a priest?”

“So I became a priest.” He opens another can. “I can still hear the static sometimes, that’s why I drink.”

“What’s happened to your aunt now?”

He bit into his lower lip and closes his eyes, his head sags. “She’d just died.”

Everything suddenly made sense. 

“I just got back from her funeral. It was my first time seeing my family in God knows how long.” He presses his lips together in a line. “I’ve never really been good with dealing with my emotions, not the healthiest way of coping, I know, but it’s something.”

He raised his can and she toasts it with hers. 

“I thought that I was over it, that I’d moved on from my past, but seeing them just brought it all back.” He laughs at himself for a moment. “It’s like what J.Lo said, ‘Don’t be fooled by the rocks that I got, I’m still Jenny from the block.’ Facing them made me realize that I’m still that same terrified, lonely boy from years ago, no matter how far I’ve gone or will go.” 

She felt tears forming, but she bites her tongue and holds it back. It was hard to see him like this. For a long time, she had thought of him as something like her rock. That she would be all right as long as he was. Even if they weren’t together, the thought of him happy and safe, heart never heavy at the end of the day, was enough for her to resolve that she would survive everything and anything. Survive the heartbreak, the pain, the countless what ifs. Survive it not for him, but  _ because _ of him. Because he had shown her how wonderful living life could be. And she was eternally grateful for that. 

But here he was now, laying himself bare. Showing her his every scar, every mark, every lash that he had been hiding for so long. And she couldn’t love him any more than in that moment. 

He buries his face into his palms. She’s frozen on her spot, not knowing how to take away the pain he was feeling, no matter how desperately she wanted to help. He sniffles some more, she decides to get up and sit next to him. She’s hesitant, but she slowly places a hand on his shoulder, hoping it would offer him any comfort. He peaks over his hands and suddenly jerks away to the far side of the couch, away from her.

“No, no no, no no,” He says, shaking his head as he scales the distance between them. “You go back there on your side, and I’ll stay right here.”

She’s left paralysed in shock, her hand still up, almost stinging at the clear rejection of her comfort. “What the fuck are you on about?”

“You’re too close to me,” He refuses to move an inch closer to her. “We’ve only started becoming friends again, I don’t want to do anything to jeopardize that.”

“Like what?” She snorts. 

“Like kiss you.” His body is tense, and he refuses to look at her directly. “Because if we kiss, I know I can’t, we can’t, it won’t--”

He doesn’t continue, but she knows what he means. 

They stay in silence for a moment.

She purses her lips, he looked a mess. 

“I thought you said this would pass.” She says so softly it’s almost a whisper

He shakes his head. “You’ve read the bible, heard me in mass. I say a lot of things. It doesn’t mean it’s always true.” 

She realizes that now she needs a drink. She grabs her can and finishes its contents.

_ Oh fuck it _ .

She inches towards him, throwing caution into the wind. It was four in the morning, if there was a good time to be reckless, this was it. 

“What are you-” He starts, but she cuts him short by closing the gap between them, wrapping her arms around him. She holds him tight, her eyes closed, until she feels him do the same. In the coldness of her apartment, he revelled in her warmth. 

“Thank you.” 

“F-for what?” 

“For sharing this with me.” She whispers to his ear.

She feels his grasp around her tighten. 

And for a brief moment, all noise around him was lost, and all he could hear was her breathing. 

He had found his peace again. 

**Author's Note:**

> Honestly, this is the fic I'm most uncertain about because it strays a bit from what canon has presented. But I just sort of wanted to establish a bit about the priest's past because it was never tackled in the series. Please tell me if you'd want to read more about that because I made a whole background for it lol
> 
> I've also realised that my stories have been a bit heavy recently, so I'm hoping to write something more light hearted in the future. I hope that's something to look forward to.


End file.
